Faruq leaned forward to catch the ten naira note the man in the blue sedan threw at him, missing the note by a few millimetres. The note fell to the ground and one of his colleagues quickly grabbed it. Faruq sighed and looked away.
Before polio hit him last year, he had been a bricklayer. It was the only thing life had positioned him to do as he had no talent and an education had been too expensive for his mother to afford.
Night would come soon and he would leave the roadside and crawl under one of the shades a small distance from it. The next morning he would rise and try to beg from the cars on the highway. Their occupants always tried not to hold his gaze for too long and he did not know why.